Newton's Law Reversed
by Connecticut Junkie
Summary: Post Season 2. Luke and Lorelai try to make things like they used to be. Except they end up making them a whole lot better.
1. Ch. 1: Reaction

Title: Newton's Law Reversed

Author: Connecticut Junkie (ct_junkie@msn.com)

Summary: Lorelai and Luke reach their breaking point, eliciting confessionsand perhaps more. Post Season 2.

Disclaimer: The WB and Amy Sherman-Palladino, among other entities, own all characters. They are not mine. The stuff I own is far less interesting (though far more material).

Distribution: If anyone would like to put this up on a site, please let me know- just so I can learn of new places to go.

Rating: Nothing you wouldn't see on the show. PG I guess. 

* * *

Chapter One: Reaction

It wasn't even the fight that fueled his grudge anymore. The fight had pushed him into a bad place, where everything was bitter and nothing gave him hope. Luke had always thought that one day, their lives would cease the random shuffling and fall into place, and she would be his the way he was already hers, even if she didn't know it. 

Patience was a virtue he had in a healthy amount, and he preferred to let things follow their own course, rather than shaping them to his will. He was a preservationist in lifestyle issues in addition to environmental ones. Change, more often than not, brings consequences. Let the river carve its own path; it was a sentiment he believed in.

That was one of the reasons he didn't pursue her; he always thought that one day, it would _just happen_. But instead, the opposite happened, so slowly he didn't even realize it until it was, of course, too late. Christopher, Max, that goddamn kid from her class, and he should have seen it coming. The Anyone But Him syndrome that resided in her. He was good enough to give her coffee, and she needed him to feed her, and she used him to sharpen her flirting skills, but that was all she would ever see him as. Luke, her friend that runs a diner. 

But he still hoped, harboring it like a dirty secret. If something was meant to happen, then it would happen. It was the closest thing to faith he had. But that night, that horrible night, had shattered the last of his hope, and turned his back to faith. 

He hated himself after that almost as much as he had loved her. Hated his stupidity for taking so long to finally see it, and his cowardice for never acting on it once he knew. Whose fault was it but his own?

He couldn't forgive her because he couldn't forgive himself for loving her. She asked him that one night, when she'd come into the diner near closing without her usual vivacity and razor-sharp wit. Luke had never seen her look so tired, or alone; it had made him ache inside for the way things used to be. 

She had just lingered in his doorway, and he stayed behind the counter, while both took in the sight of the other one and silently noted the changes. Before he could give her a gruff inquiry, she'd asked him, point blank, why he wouldn't forgive her. And those words, the answer, had burned in his throat, and danced on his tongue, but his mouth refused to open. When it finally complied, and Because I loved you, rang out in the silence of the empty diner, she had already turned and walked out minutes before.

So the few times he saw her, he was courteous but cold, talking like a stranger to the woman he cared for more than himself. He almost gave in, his resolution dissolving further every time he saw her.

But when Sookie had accidentally mentioned the Christopher/wedding fiasco when she'd returned from her honeymoon, it fortified him. How many times did Lorelai have to be disappointed by that good for nothing excuse of a man before she would learn? She'd repeat the same mistake over and over, but wouldn't even give Luke one chance. So he couldn't feel sorry for her; her hurt couldn't be nearly as deep as his own. He was fully aware of how selfish he was being, but apathy allowed him the freedom to bask in his self-centered thoughts. 

And bask in it he did. She could pout and whine and play cute and cry all she wanted, but it would make no difference. He'd already made his choice; he'd rather die bitter and alone, like his uncle, than be buried with a broken heart. At least this way, she might miss him, and regret the choice she never made.

With an angry swat he turned out the lights of the diner, and stomped up the stairs to his small apartment and his tiny bed. He hated _feelings._

* * *

Lorelai sighed and grabbed another Oreo out of the bag, her eyes never leaving the screen where poor little Julia Roberts was busy with her diabetes. See, _that_ was a problem. Dylan McDermott was your super-hot hubby, but you were dying. Not this stupid Luke thing, that wasn't a real problem. She sighed again and reached for yet another Oreo. 

The house felt so empty with Rory in Washington; _she_ felt so empty with Rory in Washington. In the course of a month, she'd managed to lose a close friend and her daughter. Maybe that's why she was trying to fill herself with Oreos. Was Rory the chocolate cookie, and Luke the white cream filling? Was it the other way around? Was she losing her mind due to toxic levels of sugar in her bloodstream? What the hell was wrong with Luke? 

She didn't know what to do; she'd apologized, written him a letter, smiled and pleaded and begged and pouted and nothing worked. The towel was officially thrown in; she'd given up on him. It was his move, but she was afraid he would never make one.

Now, if she asked for coffee, assuming she could even bring herself to go into the diner, he didn't tell her how unhealthy it was, or refuse to give her refills. He just filled the cup and left. Maybe he wanted her dead. Everyone- well not everyone but enough people- said that he liked her, so why wouldn't he just forgive her and be nice to her and give her coffee and pancakes and grudging smiles and banter and everything could be like it was before? Why couldn't Michael J. Fox drive his Delorean up her driveway and tell her that if she helped him rescue the Doc, he'd take her back in time so she could fix this horrible, nasty gash in her life before it ever happened? Why couldn't she stop watching Steel Magnolias' every single night?

_Because_, the empty spot inside her answered, _it gives you an excuse to cry. More Oreos, please._

* * *


	2. Ch. 2: Action

Disclaimer in Chapter 1

Chapter Two: Action

Lorelai was driving home from an agonizing Friday night dinner; without Rory, they were as much fun as waxing her legs. Out of habit, she drove down the street Luke's was on. Her mood took a significant swan dive when she realized what she'd done. She should drive home.

Instead, she slowed the jeep to a halt and looked through the diner's windows. Luke was filling the sugar containers; maybe it would be a good time to go in. She wouldn't be bothering him while he was busy with customers, at least. She took a deep breath and decided to go for it.

The little bell above the door tinkled and he looked up. There was a moment where Luke's face seemed to light up just a little, before returning to his usual scowl. It was brief; she probably imagined it. 

Look, I just had a really crappy evening at my parent's house, so I will politely ask for coffee and then leave, and I know it sounds very third-grade, but if you have nothing nice to say to me, please don't say anything at all because I'm not in the mood for it. Just hand me the coffee quietly, and you'll be free to say anything you want once I'm gone.

Luke stood there, looking slightly stunned, his hands wringing a towel. She seemed so hurt, so dejected. It made him hate himself to know he contributed to it. When Christopher had yelled at her and hurt her so many months ago it had taken all Luke's resolve not to follow him out and beat him up like it was high school. Now he had no one to beat up but himself.

Lorelai took his immobility to mean he wouldn't give her coffee. Okay. I see your still not mad' at me, she feebly said. So, uh, I'll see you around. Maybe. If you do ever want to talk to me again, you know where I live. Lorelai knew she sounded pathetic, but since she actually was pathetic, she couldn't bring herself to care.

He watched as she turned and headed for the door. Her shoulders were slumped, her head down. It just wasn't right. It wasn't Lorelai. And he'd been the one to do that to her. All for spite; to maybe hurt her the way she hurt him when she'd callously walked all over his feelings in her fear and anger. 

He'd accomplished that goal. But he felt no satisfaction. A panic set through him; an insight that told him if she walked out the door, they would never be able to fix this. He couldn't let her leave. What could he say to make her stop?

I love coffee! Luke blurted out. Jesus Christ, he thought, Wait' would have worked too. 

She turned around and looked at him as though he'd grown another head.

I love Luke repeated. His heart was pounding, and though he hated to admit it, he was afraid. Was it too late to take it back?

Lorelai was genuinely confused. No you don't. You hate it. You tell me that all the time. You probably think the devil drinks it, or has swimming pools filled with it.

I know I haven't said it before. And maybe I didn't really _show_ it, but, he took a deep breath and hoped that she would understand, wished that she wouldn't, and prayed that he wouldn't throw up. He stressed coffee' a little harder.

Since when? Lorelai was still bewildered.

I don't know exactly. Forgot to mark it on the calendar. But it feels like a long time, a few yearsor so, he hastily added the last two words.

That's a long time to keep it a secret. A fledgling idea tried to make its recent arrival in her head known by switching on a lightbulb. Did he mean? No, he couldn't possibly. Lorelai's brain grimaced and put on its figurative sunglasses. 

A very long time, Luke agreed. And I know that coffee and I have had issues in the past, but I just want to tell it that I'm really sorry for being so judgmental. 

The lightbulb turned into high-beams. Lorelai's brain blinked and froze like a deer. Judge Mental would be the coolest name for a Judge; he could have his own court T.V. show, like Judge Judy only even more insane than she is, because hey, he's Judge _Mental._ Off Luke's pained look, she stopped her babbling. 

It's okay. You're just being you. He fidgeted, shuffling the sugar containers into some sort of order in an effort to distract himself from the fear. 

Yeah. Me, being me. Nobody else. No_thing_ else. Justme. Being God, she was lame. She blamed her stupid deer-like brain.

Yeah. You.

But you love the coffee.

Yeah, I do. Luke feared this would never end. He wished someone would walk up and slit his throat right now.

You seemedmad, at the coffee. Recently.

Yeah. It um, burned me a little. And it hurt for a while. But I'm better now.

That's good.

He didn't need anyone to slit his throat anymore, the silence would kill him soon enough. He avoided her eyes, still occupying himself with the sugar containers.

He looked up and her eyes caught his. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was being examined.

The human body is like, seventy percent water. I learned that from the Discovery Channel. In fact, you could say I discovered it. God, her brain was on the crazy train, which incidentally was going totally off the rails, and she was probably making just as much sense as Ozzy. And I drink a lot of coffee.

Too much. This was safe. This he could do. He had years of practice in scolding her coffee habit.

A perfect amount, she firmly corrected. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to follow through with the rest of what she had to say, instead of turning and running like she always did. So the way I figure, after all these years, I must be like, seventy percent coffee.

He'd come this far; he might as well take it all the way. I don't think so.

Luke caught the disappointment flash across her face before she was able to mask it. You don't, huh?

I don't think you're seventy percent coffee. It's been building up for years. I figure it's more like one hundred. Luke mentally kicked himself for being so sappy. 

Her eyes sparkled. It made him want to write poems and songs about them, but poets and songwriters were wimps so he pushed that thought out on its ass and told it to never come back again. A whole one hundred percent?

Luke nodded. 

Lorelai nodded. 

Almost as interesting as the Discovery Channel?

Lorelai took a step closer to the counter. I think the coffee is very, very sorry that it hurt you. 

Yeah, it tried to tell me that a few times, but I'm a man and don't listen.

It's okay, the coffee forgives you.

Then I forgive the coffee.

So everything is forgiven.

Better than that.

Lorelai took another step closer and rubbed her hands together. 

You got it.

Lorelai reached the counter and sat on a stool, her feet tucked under her. The back and forth banter emboldened her; it felt so familiar, brought her back to the time before the fight. She reached out her hand and held Luke's. It shook, just slightly, and she absently ran her thumb in a circle.

Luke's mind was overloading, trying to process all his thoughts at the same time as it was trying to focus on her touch. Is this _it_, as in It: The Moment I Have Wanted For A Long Time? Or is this it, as in the End of What We Had and Now She Will Leave and Hate Me Forever? 

Lorelai sat up on her knees, the stool swaying with her shift, her eyes now level with Luke's. His gaze moved from their joined hands to her face, and his eyes widened a little in surprise to see her staring so intently at him. Her eyes, in contrast, narrowed.

I see it now.

See what? He nervously demanded.

Your love of coffee. Someone said it was right in your eyes but I didn't believe them.

Whoever it was, I'll kill them.

No you won't.

He arched an eyebrow. 

Because after coffee says it loves you back, you're not going to care.

A beat as he realized what she was saying. He'd never been a man of many words, and to make it worse, he was having trouble comprehending the enormity of the situation. His heart was swelling with excitement, something it wasn't really used to, and his brain was trying to convince him this was all his imagination and to calm down because he'd just end up with his feelings hurt.

Lorelai saw the trepidation and vulnerability on his face, and felt something inside her break. She lost control over her emotions. It was confession time. You not being my friend these past few months was just awful, Luke. I don't ever, ever want to go through that again. Do you understand me? Please don't ever shut me out like that again, I don't think I could handle it. 

Do you know that if someone all powerful, like Q, had come up to me and said I can give you Luke back, but in exchange you will never have coffee again,' I would have totally said okay. And don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about, you know who Q is, because you're a Trekkie. A Trekkie in the closet is still a Trekkie.

Luke was certain she could have rambled on forever; getting Lorelai to shut up was a feat he'd never been able to accomplish. Of course, that was before. He'd just taken a huge step and it hadn't killed him; the time felt right to take another one.

He kissed her. At first it was just lips smashed on lips, to keep words from coming out of her mouth, but after her initial shock wore off, it evolved. His arms slid under hers, pulling her closer as his tongue probed deeper. She moaned and clutched at him, leaning towards him until she was crawling over the countertop, their mouths still fused together, the stupid sugar containers pushed aside and rolling everywhere. He lifted her off the countertop, letting her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor on his side of the counter. 

Her hands roamed over his back, over his broad shoulders, needing to feel him, needing to confirm that what was happening was real. The edge of the counter pressed against her lower back, but she barely noticed. Tremors racked her body as his kiss changed yet again, from desperate to deliberate. His hands were so big, she thought, when he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek.

She broke away with a shuddery breath, her heart hammering and her lungs burning. Her cheeks were wet; she was crying. Embarrassment flooded her; she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes, so she looked down at his chest instead. He was breathing heavily too, she noted.

Luke brushed the wetness off her cheek. I'm freaking you out, I know, she mumbled.

Trust me, I'm completely freaked out, he admitted. But not from the crying.

A smile tugged at her lips, and she took a steadying breath before looking up at him. Play it cool, she told herself. So you're freaked out, but are you turned on? 

Every time I see you, he answered. Lorelai groaned. Too cheesy? he asked. 

She nodded. Yeah. But I like cheese.

I know.

Is this weird? she suddenly asked.

Your hand is on my ass. My hand is under your shirt and I would really, really like to get you naked. So does this feel weird to you, or does it feel right?

Luke's eyebrows drew together. Is this a trick question? She shook her head. It feels right. You don't know how long I've waited for this. Hell, I don't even know how long I've waited for this.

Lorelai smiled up at him. So, let's not wait anymore. She kissed him. He broke away. 

Stay right there. He left the counter and flipped the sign to closed.'

* * *

-the end-

Thanks for reading! You know what's fun? Reviewing! Go ahead and push the buttonotherwise it'll get lonely.

Author's note: This was a recycled scene-turned-fic after it was cut from the fic I'm working ona behemoth that refuses to finish. I might take a break from that to write a smutty little continuation of this one, if anyone's interested.

P.S.: If you get the title, applaud yourself, because Science Geeks are cool G


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